


Tempest

by Janina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark!Jon, F/M, Jon was adopted by the Starks, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: Jon and Sansa haven't seen each other in years. They have a few issues to work through.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 31
Kudos: 206





	Tempest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mynameisnoneya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/gifts).



> So, I had this idea for an epic tale that I knew I would never write and if I did, I'd never finish it, so I decided to pick the one scene I had built up in my head and write that with the backstory filled in around it. 
> 
> Gorgeous banner by @mynameisnoneya! Thank you, sweetie!
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/sTDLwbm)

Sansa was so tired. Why did everything have to be so hard? She and Jon had spent years not speaking, avoiding this thing between them. This “thing” being the feelings she and Jon had developed for each other long ago in this very house that they’d grown up in. 

This house, this big cold house that was full to the rafters with hurt feelings, anger, resentment, confusion and despair. And, of course, their mother Catelyn Stark. Their narcissistic mother and their enabler father who never stood up for them. Mother took up so much room - she was everywhere - perpetuating all nurturing all those emotions and making them grow bigger and bigger until it felt like the house could burst from it all. 

Even now, with her parents dead and gone, and only her and Robb, Jon and Arya in the house, it still felt full. The very air was pregnant with all the unresolved feelings they had for each other.

Robb was still pretending he wasn’t gay because Mother didn’t approve.

Arya still hated everyone for being unnoticed her entire childhood. 

Jon was still angry from all the pressure of being the foster kid because Mother strove to make herself appear as the benevolent woman she wasn’t. When he did something good he was a Stark, when he didn’t, he belonged to that “other family.”

And Sansa, having spent so long trying to be the golden child she had lost all sense of self - or rather, she’d never had it, and was still searching for who she was. 

It was as though Mother had planned this. She had planned for her and Ned to die together so that she could bring all her kids together in the house that suffocated them despite its immense size, and make them face one another when they’d spent so long avoiding just that.

One would think that surviving an emotionally abusive narcissist like Mother would have bonded them, but when you had a mother who pitted her kids against each other at various times it went the other way. 

Once upon a time there had been a Jon and a Sansa. Sansa who accepted Jon as her brother and loved him no matter what. And Jon, who clung to that acceptance like a lifeline. 

Somewhere along the way their love for each other had twisted into something that was unthinkable. Jon had been the only one to truly see her. Sansa had been the only one to truly love him. 

It was wrong. Dirty. Unsustainable. 

And when they’d all fled the house to find their sense of self and their own life, they’d cut themselves off from each other cold turkey. There was no gentle drifting, just a firm cut that left them both wounded and bleeding out. As though their time with Mother hadn’t already caused enough pain. 

Now with all them under the same roof to sell their family home, those old feelings had come back. In fact, they’d never really gone anywhere. They had just numbed out for a real long time. 

Jon hid it now with drinking and making biting remarks about her crystals and oils and tinctures. 

Sansa hid it by going out of her way to avoid him, and if you’ve ever gone out of your way to avoid someone, you know how tiring and how much work that really is. 

Now, left alone in the house while Robb no doubt visited Theon and Arya skulked around town spying on people and taking snapshots of them without their knowledge, Jon and Sansa had to face each other. 

He was in the sitting room no doubt drinking despite the fact that it was 11 a.m.

Sansa finally worked up the courage to stride into the sitting room. She wanted to get rid of the feeling of inevitability. It was a forgone conclusion that they would have to interact at least once. She couldn’t sneak around the house all day to avoid him. He’d sit there so unassuming just waiting for her, but even up in her room through walls and floor, she could feel him just biding his time. She knew he knew what she was up to. It was there plainly written on his face whenever they were in the same room together with Arya or Robb. He thought she was funny. She thought she was clever.

Sansa wanted to come off as nonchalant, and so she strolled to the bar and poured herself a glass of seltzer water. She could feel Jon’s eyes on her, watching her, seeing right through her. 

“There she is,” he said. 

“Here I am,” she chirped. She sat down on the sofa and smiled as she looked over him stretched out in a pair of crisp black pants and a black button down. His shoes were expensive and Sansa wondered if he still felt he had to be “presentable” even without Mother there. 

“What are your plans for today?” she asked, her gaze drifting down to her drink and then off to the window. She was trying to sound easy and uncaring, and yet she realized she was pitched forward on the couch, ready to flee at a moment's notice. 

Jon was slouched in Mother’s mid-century modern chair with a glass of what Sansa assumed was a gin and tonic in his hand. He glanced at his drink, “I’ll probably switch over to vodka around one. Care to join me?”

The wrinkle of her nose was automatic. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. She wanted to ask if that’s all he planned to do today. To just drink. 

“Get that judgmental look off your face” he snapped. 

His ire startled her and she realized she had let her mask slip. She hadn’t prepared herself enough to face him and her “poker face” had fallen off. 

“I’m surprised you came down to see me,” he said. “I would have thought you’d stay upstairs until Arya or Robb came home.” He smirked. “I know how much you need them as a buffer from me.”

Her anger was quick. She didn’t like him calling attention to it even if it was true, and she also didn’t like that he was right. “Fuck you, Jon.”

His gaze bore into her. “I’d like to fuck _you_ but you’ve been making that quite difficult.”

That had surprised her and shaken the anger right out of her. How was she supposed to respond to _that_? 

“You can’t avoid me the whole time we’re here,” he told her. “You can, I don’t know, carve some stakes, put salt at your door to keep me out if that’s what you’re into.” He leaned forward now, his jaw set, his gray eyes black, “But I know you want me still. If you didn’t you wouldn’t go out of your way to hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” she said indignantly. 

He looked off, past her and sighed. “Do you know that I can still conjure up the taste of you?” 

She stared at him, frozen. What was he _doing_? 

“Sweet and little tart. I’ve tasted a lot of women over the years we’ve been apart. Sometimes I think I’ve come close to your taste and those are the ones I let stay a while.” He looked right at her then.

Sansa couldn’t breathe. She felt heat rising to her cheeks. 

“Your cunt,” he said, “was so tight around my cock. Live a vise.”

“You’re disgusting,” she said. She stood. Jon did too, so quickly his drink sloshed over the top of his glass - so quickly it scared her. 

She gripped her glass and kept her eyes on him. Her breathing had grown heavier as flight became the response. 

Her eyes darted to the door. 

“Have any of your boyfriends fucked you as good as I did?” he asked raggedly.

Sansa threw her glass at the wall behind him. The room was so fucking big it didn’t even hit the wall, just sailed to the floor in a spray of tonic right over the baby grand piano no one played anymore. Jon ducked nonetheless and Sansa practically ran to the door. 

She didn’t go upstairs in her old bedroom to hide, instead, she marched right out the front door and headed towards the woods and the trail she used to wander on as a kid. 

She was walking so fast she was nearly running. A sob escaped and she clapped a hand over her mouth to contain it. 

That’s when she heard him coming. He was gaining on her.

She stopped abruptly and let him catch up to her. When he put his hand on her arm to turn her around and face him, she let him. 

He didn’t look as furious as he had inside. Instead he looked beaten down, worried, and as tired as she felt. 

They stared at each other for just a moment before they reached for each other at the same time and their lips collided. It was hard and brutal - tongue and teeth, nips and bites. 

She was so lost in Jon that she didn’t realize he’d had her on the move until her back was against a tree. His hands were on her face and hers went to the belt on his pants. 

He tore his mouth away and looked at her, there was some surprise there. He growled and kissed her again. He moaned and broke their kiss once again when her hand made it way inside his undone pants and boxers to his cock. He was hot and hard and she wanted him inside her. 

He moved away long enough to yank her leggings down followed by her panties while she kicked off her sneakers. Her clothes and shoes a heap in a pile of leaves, Jon lifted her up and her legs wound around his waist. 

He slid inside her with the greatest of ease and the wonder that overtook his face was amazing to her. He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she was real and that this was happening. 

“Jon,” she breathed and carded her fingers in his curly locks.

“Sansa,” he gasped. 

He set a brutal pace, fucking her as though his life depended on it. 

“Too long,” he grunted.

She didn’t know what he meant - too long since he’d had sex or too long since they had?

He buried his face in her neck and stilled. 

“Jon?” she questioned softly. 

He shifted his feet a little wider and pushed deeper inside her. He looked up at her. “Never again,” he said. “Do you hear me? Never again, Sansa.”

What did he mean? 

As though he heard her, he said, “You’re _mine_.”

Oh. She nodded. Yes yes. 

Her orgasm took her by surprise and she cried out into the forest. Birds squawked back at her and leaves rustled. 

Jon buried his face in her neck and roared as he came deep inside her, holding still as he emptied his seed. He shuddered against her and Sansa lifted his face to hers and kissed him achingly sweet and slow, her long red hair a curtain around their faces. 

There was no rush of regret. No guilt. Nothing. Just the sense of being utterly present for the first time in possibly ever. This was what - and who - she’d needed all along.


End file.
